Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
by ChrissiHR
Summary: A collection of wolf pack winter holiday-themed one-shots, beginning with my 1st Place Tricky Raven 2013 Christmas contest one-shot, Holidaze. No wolf is safe from the holiday shenanigans, though! Upcoming stories include Fat Quil, Paul/Bella, Embry/Leah, Quil/Leah, Jacob/Bella, Embry/Bella, Sam/Bella, Charlie/Mystery Woman, and maybe even some Jared/Bella... Rated M, for language
1. Holidaze, a Paul OS

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**Happy Holidays, lovely FFn readers!**

_I was feeling the holiday spirit quite a lot this month, so I decided it might be time to carve out a little home for some of my new holiday fluff in its own collection here on FFn. This first one-shot is a story some of you may remember. I couldn't start a holiday one-shots group without including **Holidaze**, my winning entry in Tricky Raven's 2013 Christmas Contest for Authors and Artists (my first writing contest ever!), so I hope you enjoy this blast from Christmas-past. Keep an eye out for my next holiday one-shot, **Muffin Top**. which should be available to read by tomorrow evening._

_If you're interested in entering this year's contest, check out Tricky Raven's 2014 Christmas Contest for Authors and Artists on Tricky Raven's main page._

❅ ** ChrissiHR **❅

_(There's a more typical author's note at the end of this one-shot for my regular readers with other fic updates and whatnot. Feel free to skip it if you hate long author's notes.)_

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><p><em>"I don't understand how someone who's so thoughtful sometimes can be such an ungrateful prick to everyone!" -Bella, Holidaze<em>

**Pairing**: **Paul/Bella**  
><strong>Genre: HurtComfort and Romance  
>Rating<strong>: **M for strong language**  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Paul hates the holidays ... for good reason. Bella brings him a gift he never knew he wanted or needed.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><em>✫.¸¸ .<em> _*¨*. ¸ .__*¨*.¸¸.__*¨'*_

**Holidaze**

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_Post-New Moon, no cliff jump, Deadwood Sullen never came back, yada, yada, yada..._

Paul and Jake ambled along quietly through the old growth snow-crusted forest on the outer edge of the rez, making their way back around to Paul's place on the outskirts. They'd taken to leaving their clothes somewhere inconspicuous outside because they'd get soggy tied to their ankles for a ten-hour patrol in the sloppy, three-day old, crunchy snow.

The rest of the pack was scattered around the rez, most of 'em at home with their families, celebrating the holiday. They would all take turns patrolling short shifts throughout the long night, but Paul had deliberately volunteered for a long one on Christmas Eve so the others could spend more time with their families ... and so he could spend less time at home staring at four walls and-if he was really lucky-avoid the sloppy fucking Christmas cheer playing in a loop on every channel on network TV for the next twenty-four hours.

Jake, the baby-Alpha-in-training, happy-fucking-boy-scout that he was, volunteered to run the long patrol with Paul in order to give the pack more time with their families. He arranged for Billy to spend the day with Charlie, then for Seth to pick him up and take him over to the Clearwaters' for dinner when Charlie took his turn working the late Christmas Eve shift so his deputies could spend time with their young families. Bella was supposed to join the Blacks at the Clearwaters' later.

Paul's pace slowed cautiously when they approached his run-down, piece of shit house. The scent of burning motor oil lingered in the air from a vehicle Paul knew for certain had no good reason to be out here.

Jake huffed a lupine chuckle, "_Yeah, I'll have to check her O-rings soon. She's burning through a quart of oil a week now, I bet._"

He looked at Paul when the big red truck came into view parked in front of his house. "_Don't be pissed okay? Seth was happy about having most of tonight and tomorrow off for the holiday and let it slip that you were going to be alone today and tomorrow and that you volunteered for the extra patrols because you didn't have anything better to do. Then Sue told her how she asked you to come over for Christmas Eve dinner and you said it was 'just another goddamn day like any other day and what did it matter?' and that was when Bells pulled her bossy boots on and decided to try to fix you again. She means well_," he said apologetically as the bluesy-moody strains of Elvis's "White Christmas" drifted towards them from the house along with the scents of ginger and chocolate, a little vanilla, and some almond.

"_Is she playing Christmas music? And baking cookies? **In my house?**_" Paul's wolf's eyes widened in bewildered outrage.

"_I think she might be decorating, too. She made me help her get out some decorations and lights and stuff last night when I stopped by her house after patrol_," Jake murmured quietly in the pack mind, nodding his muzzle toward the faint twinkling lights behind the blinds in the front window before he trotted around back to grab his clothes.

Paul stalked after Jake, a muted growl rumbling in his chest. He rose up on his rear legs and phased out mid-stride as he climbed the back stairs in full view of the kitchen window. He heard a startled yelp from inside and chuckled darkly.

"Paul... " Jake growled the warning from the yard below the window-out of sight-where he'd tucked his clothes before patrol so he could change in privacy knowing Bella might be there when they came back. He'd been very firmly, but lovingly friend-zoned the previous summer, so he knew she had little-to-no interest in seeing his goodies-no matter how fucking hot he looked buck ass naked. _Her loss_, he snickered. She was his best friend. He figured the least he could do was try not flash her his ass while _she_tried to do something nice for one of his pack mates.

Paul's lip curled in response as he turned on Jake and told him to fuck off.

"Whatever, dude. Just try to be nice? Please? I gotta run home and shower or I'll be late for dinner. Tell Bells I'll meet her over at the Clearwaters' in an hour?"

Paul's single sharp nod of assent didn't do much to set Jake's mind at ease, but he heard Bella deliberately humming Christmas carols inside-loudly-so he figured she was determined to carry on no matter how big a dick Paul was going to be.

"Be nice," he ordered, jabbing his index finger at him once before taking off.

Paul took the stairs two at a time, yanking the door open and nearly pulling it off its hinges.

"SWAN!" he bellowed, stomping into the kitchen, glaring at her murderously. "You interfering little..."

"Leech-fucker?" she supplied, sweeping past him, rolling her eyes, all business with a stack of tins and a picture frame balanced in her arms. "Yeah, yeah. I know. 'Go away, pale face.' 'Stop moving my shit around, Swan. I can't find anything when you pull this cleaning shit on me.' 'I left those underwear on the floor for a reason, you nagging twit.' I've heard it all before, so play a new tune. That one's getting old, Lahote," she sneered.

She arranged the tins on the counter and fussed with a few other things, then turned around to glare back at him in challenge, bravely bearding the wolf in his own den.

"Why are you doing this?" he snapped. "Is it just because you can't _help_ yourself? You like interfering and being underfoot all the goddamn time?"

She cocked her hip and crossed her arms, barking back at him, "You took a ten-hour patrol on Christmas Eve so the others could spend more time with their families. You're always stepping up and taking care of everyone else! What?" She threw her hands in the air. "We aren't allowed to take care of you once in a while? Show you that it means something to us-the little things _you_ do? I don't understand how someone who's so thoughtful sometimes can be such an ungrateful prick to everyone!"

She stopped then, dropping her eyes to the floor, murmuring, "Or maybe it's just me."

Paul's heart clenched in rebellion at the sound of those hateful words, the self-doubt in them. He just hated feeling like a fucking charity case, like she _had_ to do those things for him. That was why he'd been avoiding the Clearwaters' place tonight. He didn't realize...

He watched, feeling a little helpless and out of his depth as she swiftly gathered her things and threw on her coat, her lip wobbling a little tearfully, the silence between them humming with tension.

"Swan," he called after her, then cursed, "I mean ... Bella?"

She stopped at the front door and sighed, shoulders drooping in defeat.

She turned around, her eyes cautiously seeking out his, worrying her shaking lip between her teeth as she waited for him to yell again when a single tear spilled over.

But he didn't yell. That one tear razed all of his self-righteous indignation down to the ground. He brought his hands up in a helpless gesture, not sure where to start or how to go about fixing this, or if he should even bother trying.

She put her things on the chair by the door and approached him slowly. When she stood so close she could feel his heat, she threw her arms around his waist and closed her eyes, letting a few more tears escape and hugging him quickly as she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Paul."

Then she was gone, rushing to the chair, snatching up her empty boxes and leftover lights, and out the door.

Paul stood there, shocked into silence.

She clattered down the stairs, heaved the stuff in the bed of her truck and cranked the engine, taking off in a cloud of billowing black smoke.

Paul still stood there, just thinking.

She hugged him.

She put up a tree and hung stockings-enough for the whole damn pack, from the look of it.

She fucking baked cookies.

Nobody had ever baked Paul cookies. Not in _this_ house. His house had never smelled like cookies.

He wondered what kind.

He wandered out to the kitchen, past the tidied shelves and dusted furniture. He looked down. Fuck, she even scrubbed the fucking baseboards and vacuumed and put out little area rugs he had no idea he had. _Who does that shit?_ he wondered.

He found a stack of tins on the kitchen counter-half a dozen of them or more-filled with cookies of all kinds.

In front of the cookies was an empty picture frame and a note tucked under a sprig of mistletoe.

_Paul,_

_I would have framed a picture of you and I as well, but I couldn't find any, so I baked you some cookies instead to make your house smell like Christmas and left you this frame. I'd like for you to join us for dinner at the Clearwaters' tonight so we can fix that. Fill the frame, I mean, with a picture of you and me. Come for dessert at the very least, if you're not up for the big family dinner. My dad is working tonight and my mom is in Jacksonville with her new husband, Phil. You're not the only one who's without their family on Christmas Eve. There's no reason to stay that way, though. Come have dinner with us. Please?_

_Merry Christmas, Paul._

_Love,_

_Bella_

He looked up, scanning the house. There were framed pictures of him with the pack everywhere, all over the house; there were big frames, little frames, collages, even a big picture the size of a poster-a picture Bella had taken of his, Sam's, and Jared's wolves from a distance when they were phased to obscure their massive size.

He wandered into the living room and found more; pictures of him when he was a kid playing with Sam and Jared, and even Leah on the fourth of July, as well as pictures of Jake, Embry, Quil, and Seth facing off against the big kids in a game of touch football at the beach before a bonfire when they were young teens. Every available surface was cluttered with newly-framed pictures.

Pictures of his family, he realized, drawing up short.

Bella had given him _family_ for Christmas this year-had left pictures to show him and baked cookies to prove that there was someone who cared enough to make his house smell like a home. Everything she'd done was to remind him that he didn't need to be alone tonight-he had a family to be with.

He stood there for a second in a daze, unsure of what to do. Would she really still want him to come to dinner after the way he spoke to her?

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Bella was talking to Leah, explaining how the camera app on her phone worked and what she wanted her to do if, on the off chance, Paul actually showed up that night, when all the noise in the house suddenly ceased-everything but the tinkling background noise of A Charlie Brown Christmas playing on TV.

Every human, every wolf, _everyone_, went completely silent.

Standing just inside the front door-dressed in a pair of neat, dark-wash jeans and a charcoal grey shirt that Bella herself had bought, pressed, and left hanging on his closet door that afternoon in the hope that he would take the hint-was Paul Lahote. He wore an old, well-loved pair of motorcycle boots and looked like hot sex on a stick with the top few buttons of the shirt undone.

He was the only guy she knew who somehow managed to look hotter wearing _more_ clothes, rather than less.

"_Paul?_" she whispered, not sure whether she could believe her eyes.

_He came_...

He shifted to the side, shaking the fresh snow out of his hair and propping his back up against the door frame as he dropped his eyes to the floor, one booted foot kicked out against the opposite side, toes digging into the molding, "I got your note."

"My note?"

"The one you left under the mistletoe, by the cookies," he said as he held it up, twirling the sprig between his fingers.

"Oh. Yeah, I figured," she said, stepping closer to give them the illusion of privacy in the silent room.

"The house looks nice. I should have thanked you instead of snapping and trying to run you off again," he admitted quietly.

"It's okay."

"I didn't get you anything."

"You came."

"Yeah?" his eyebrows ticked up, in surprise.

"Yeah," she smiled.

He straightened up, clearing his throat, "Listen, if you're not doing anything-" He cleared his throat again, shifting nervously. "Fuck it," he muttered, snapping out of it and lunging for her suddenly. He pulled her into a hug.

She stood awkwardly for a second, just a little terrified and not sure where to put her hands or if it was okay to hug him back. Then, relaxing minutely, she let her hands fall against his shirt, soothing up and down his lower back, mimicking his movements.

"Thanks," he murmured in her ear, "For the cookies and ... everything." He leaned back and looked into her beautiful wide eyes-really looked for the first time-and reached up to tuck the sprig of mistletoe behind her ear.

"You're welcome," she whispered, getting a little teary again and trying to brush it off as she pulled away, lifting her shoulder to her ear in a dismissive shrug. "It's just a few cookies. No big deal."

The unshed tears in her eyes broke down that final barrier, the wall of the inner sanctum, the place he never let anyone into and he whispered apologetically, "I've been a dick."

She lifted a hand cautiously, gently stroking from his temple down to his jaw as his eyelids fluttered in pleasure at her careful touch. She smiled, not the least bit surprised he hadn't actually apologized, and answered, "I know," and then she was kissing him as his lips parted on the beginning of a laugh.

Then he was kissing her back.

_Click,_ Bella heard her phone and smiled at Leah's timing. This was a moment she never wanted to forget.

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><p><strong>AN: **_This one still makes me smile every time I read it. I hope you all still enjoy it as much I loved writing it!_

_Got another holiday fic to recommend? Feel free to rec it with the title and author name in the reviews and share the joy of the season and fandom love with other readers._

_To my regular readers, my sincerest apologies for going so long between stories. I know I've fallen a bit off the radar lately. I've been writing TONS, though, including a return to writing my beloved Snowed In this month. I wrote 37 pages alone the first weekend I picked it up a few weeks ago and decided it was time to figure out what I planned to do with it and exactly where it was going. Hint: All the best, naughty places with a side-trip through some feels and angst, bad decisions, and misunderstandings that could have been avoided._

_I hope to get more of the other holiday one-shots I have that are mostly finished completed and posted this week, but Tricky Raven is running it's Third Annual Holiday Contest for Authors and Artists and I'm working on an Embrella story that I hope I can finish in time. Entries for that are still being accepted until December 31st, so there's time if you want to enter or you can just head over there to enjoy some new holiday feels and fluff._

_Thanks for reading!_

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><p><em>Coming Soon...<em>

_"Quil…Honey…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together and biting down hard, trying to find a nice way to say 'your ass is going to have its own zip code soon'. -Bella, Muffin Top_


	2. Muffin Top, a Fat Quil Flashfic

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**Rating:** M, for strong language (and lots of it!)

**Genre:** Humor, Holiday Fun

**Characters:** Quil, Bella, Paul, Jacob, Embry, Jared

**Origin:** This one is also posted in my holiday one-shots group, **Eat, Drink, and Be Merry** on Tricky Raven.

**_A/N at the end. Skip it if you hate A/Ns!_**

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><p>❅<em>.¸¸ . ✶*¨*. ¸ .<em>❆_*¨*.¸¸.✶*¨'*_❅

**Muffin Top**

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_On the first day of Christmas…_

_… my Bella gave to me…_

_….a fat werewolf pouting in a tree…_

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Bella danced around Paul's kitchen, baking cookies and cupcakes and those little wafer things he loved so much while half the pack gathered around the table—as was their habit whenever she baked anything, much less the week of Christmas. Turning to set another dozen on her cooling racks, she watched Quil demolish hours of her hard work, no less than six dozen cupcakes, disappearing faster than a virgin on prom night.

She laid a hand on his arm and asked him if he wanted to talk about it.

Around a mouthful of frosting, he asked, "What?"

"I can't help but notice you ate—" She glanced down the length of the empty counter and sighed. "—every single cupcake I baked this morning." She sighed again. "But I don't think eating is the solution to…"

She looked around the room for a little backup from the others, none of whom would make eye contact. Glaring at them, she hissed, "You're going to make _me_ say it, aren't you?"

Paul grinned, his teeth caked with black paste and pale green frosting.

She rolled her eyes.

Embry snorted on a laugh and green frosting blew out both nostrils.

"You chicken-shit assholes always leave me to do your dirty work…" she grumbled, heaving a gusting sigh and hanging her head, hands on her hips.

Quil glanced back and forth from her to the guys sitting around the table, noting none would look at him, either.

Except for Paul. He looked way too smug for this to be _good_ news.

Squaring her shoulders, she tried to figure out where to begin. "Quil… Honey…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together and biting down hard, trying to find a nice way to say _'your ass is going to have its own zip code soon'._

"You're getting a little muffin top," she blurted out.

The idiot hyenas at Paul's table cackled.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she shook her head in apology, her eyes wide and appalled.

_That's not what she meant to say at all!_

Fucking Lahote and his big, fat fucking mouth rubbing off on her and eroding her social skills and fucking forget any semblance of _tact_. And fucking forget subtlety, too.

_And, for fuck's sake, what's with all the fucking 'fuck's all of a sudden…?_

She turned on her mate, hissing and spitting, "This is your doing."

"I know, right?" He grinned. "It's fucking great!" And ate another cupcake.

"Stop saying 'fuck'! No more 'fuck's in this kitchen! This is a 'fuck'-free zone!" she growled.

"Too fucking bad for you, dude," Jared whispered, snickering.

Paul mouthed, _Fuck you._

Jake cracked an imaginary whip.

Everybody laughed, except for Quil.

He screwed up his face in confusion. "What the fuck is a 'muffin top'?" His eyes lit up. "Is that like another kind of cupcake?"

Bella snarled, whirling around to pin him with an indignant glare, "What **_THE FUCK_ **did I just say_?_"

"No fucking clue," Jared snorted, trying to catch the laugh in the palm of his hand.

Bella licked her finger and chalked the air, "Number one on my fucking shit list, Cameron." Raising two fingers, she pointed at her eyes and turned them on him, letting him know the fucking list was real and it meant fucking business.

"She means those jeans are held together by a wish and a prayer, and put down the cupcake, fat ass," Paul growled, snatching a box of the remaining treats to take to the table as Quil grabbed another, hugging it to his chest and flouncing to the door.

Bella's face fell a little. She never would have said it like _that_, even if … well, if she was being totally honest, those jeans _were _barely a baker's dozen away from being dust rags and she'd seen more than enough of Quil's ass for two lifetimes. "Quil, you know I would never… I didn't mean-"

"I'm gonna finish this last box of cupcakes somewhere less judgmental. And for your information, I do not have a fat ass. I take after my mother. She says I'm big-boned."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that while you eat my cupcakes and pray those jeans have the will to live another day, nimrod," Paul growled.

Then Quil tossed his hair—actually tossed it like a L'oreal commercial—and stormed out the door.

Bella wiped floury hands on her apron, smiling wryly, "Well, that could have gone worse."

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"Whatch doin' up there, lil' buddy?" Jake asked, gazing up into the tree that used to hold Quil's tire swing … until he broke it two weeks ago.

"_Eating my feelings_—what's it look like?" he sneered and stuffed two more cupcakes in his mouth.

_Man-struating,_ Jake mouthed to Embry.

Embry tried to placate their best friend, easing back a few steps when the branch over their heads creaked ominously, "Bella didn't mean anything by it, Q. You know she doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She's just worried about you, bud. She's a girl. They assume everyone is eating their feelings when seventy-two chocolate cupcakes disappear in less than eight minutes."

Quil pouted and stuffed another cupcake in his mouth, crumbs spraying with every word, _"_I am a _goddamn werewolf_, not some fourteen-year old girl worrying about whether or not the thirty-seven waffles and eleven eggs I ate for breakfast are going straight to my hips. And even if they did, I would still look fuck-awesome because I GOT AN ASS THAT WON'T QUIT. How do you like them apples, Tweedle Dumb and Dumber?"

Jake and Embry looked at each other and crossed their arms. They waited half a heartbeat before pointing at each other, barking in unison, "Not it!"

"You're both 'Dumber'," Paul grumbled, smacking them upside their heads and pointing into the tree canopy. "And get that tubby bastard out of the poor tree before he falls and busts his fuckin' head open. My girl isn't making him one more goddamn cupcake, much less waiting on him hand and foot while he heals a broken leg because he pouted like a bitch and dropped like a stone."

Looking up into the tree, he snarled, "You hear me, Ateara?! You crack that fat melon on top a'your neck and I'll make you watch me eat those fuckin' cupcakes from your hospital bed. And lay off the sweets, fatty! Your wolf's ass is so big, your mama's gonna get jealous!"

Quil's face tightened.

"Are you gonna cry?" Paul demanded, hands on his hips.

"Depends," he pouted.

"On what?"

"Do you really think my ass looks fat in my fur coat?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Paul threw his hands in the air and stalked back to his place, muttering about werewolf asses, psyching himself up to stand up to Bella because he's a grown-_fucking_-man and he should be able to say 'fuck' in his own goddamn kitchen any-_fucking-_time he wanted.

Quil heard him storm into the house and snarl at Bella, _"And I'll say 'fuck' if I want to!"_

"And I'll stop sucking your dick if _I_ want to," she replied primly.

"Ha!" Quil bellowed, shifting his weight, eyes widening at the resounding crack of the tree shaking beneath him.

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Stunned and disoriented, he blinked as his vision cleared. Standing over him were Jake and Embry, watching in silence, eyebrows raised.

"You tell _him_ about this and I'll show everybody that picture of you two naked in the tub together when you were three."

"Deal," they agreed, helping him to his feet, watching while he dusted himself off.

"Uh, Quil…" Jake's voice shook with barely suppressed laughter.

"Don't say a word," he growled, stalking into the forest, bare ass hanging out the split in his pants.

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><p><strong>AN: **_I would probably punch Paul in the babymaker if he talked to me like that. ;-)_

_Thanks go to JaspersDarlinKathy for looking over my first draft. __And thanks very much also to my BFF **meliz875** for not putting up with my shit and not being afraid to say, "Fix your shit and quit procrastinating, you have Embry things to write", and that's why I love her. :-D __If you haven't seen it yet, she posted a holiday outtake on her Quil/Bella fic, **Wake the Earth** yesterday and it's awesome and I loved it and you will, too!_


	3. Black & Blue, a OS Preview

**A/N: **_This is my first place winning entry in the 2014 Tricky Raven Holiday Contest for Authors and Artists. I won 1st place for both my one-shot and the banner I made. __Thanks very much to all the voters at Tricky Raven and congrats to all the other holiday contest winners!_

**Black & Blue, a Preview**

**(This one-shot is posted IN FULL on my profile.)**

**Rating:** M, for language  
><strong>Genre:<strong> angst/romance

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><p>Festooned and gaily lit, the Uley home bulged at the seams as the pack gathered early one morning in mid-December.<p>

Embry stretched, pencil flying across paper as he worked to tune out the ravening horde gathered at Sam's, eating the former Alpha out of house and home. Though he appreciated the support, it wasn't a big deal—being interviewed. As his artwork gained a following in Seattle, featurette pieces became frequent occurrences. His gratitude at being called rather than interviewed live couldn't be overstated.

Because _fuck mornings._

"Shh…!" Jake ordered. "It's on."

The pack swarmed the living room, scuffling over the 'good' seats.

"_Good morning, Seattle," _came the chipper voice of KOMO-TV reporter, Katy Morningstar. _"We're at Key Arena this morning with Rat City Rollergirls, Seattle's pride, the first professional rollerderby league in Washington. Rat City Rollergirls will be hosting its annual Black-and-Blue Brawl-and-Ball over the next twelve days, culminating in its signature New Year's fundraiser. Rat City Rollergirls has been a safe haven for young women in Seattle since its inception, a place to work out some aggression, but its newest initiative—a mentoring program for troubled teens and runaways—is spearheaded by a woman who knows all too well what it's like to be on the receiving end of that same mentorship. I'm here with Throttle Rockets Team Captain and teen league coach, Call of Booty."_

The reporter grinned.

Embry snorted, recognizing Call of Booty as the promoter he'd been emailing for months while he worked on marketing materials for the New Year's Eve fundraiser and trading card designs for the league.

"_Call of Booty is a stage name, obviously. Here at Key Arena, she's also known as the tough as nails Vice President of Public and Media Relations—_

Coverage cut away from the reporter's sunny grin to a scene straight out of Hollywood. He followed Booty's jersey, cringing when she turned mother-wolf, defending a younger teammate after a blatant series of illegal hits.

The petite, curvy skater named Booty took exception with umbrage, her thick, ombre-teal braids whipping as she threw an elbow in the bitch's face and told her to pick on someone her own size if she wanted a _good_ fight. When the skater tried to corner Booty, cocking her arm back to take that advice, Booty grabbed the chick's jersey, hauling her close and taking the hit in the face like a champ. Her head snapped back and she returned the hit like a volleyed serve, easily dishing out two blows to every one she took.

Embry winced at the pounding of fists on flesh.

The footage cut to the live feed, and the tiny tattooed terror. Head bowed, the skeletal figure of a Misfits decal on Booty's helmet tipped to the camera like a sinister mask.

A wry grin teased his lips.

Someone called out, _"Bella!"_

Jake's sharp intake of breath pulled Embry's attention from the drawing in his lap to the face on the screen.

Waving, she turned her body, and with it, his world—upside-down.

_Bella._

Automatically, he cataloged the changes as the camera panned out. The brown-eyed girl next door was gone. In her place, a tattooed, badass butterfly unfurled its little punk wings.

Tattoos cascaded over creamy shoulders to padded elbows. A grey wolf—_his_ wolf, he realized, startled—sprawled across a shoulder, it's muzzle nestled over the curve of breast. The Quileute pack tattoo in violet-blue occupied her other shoulder. Bold colors swirled down both arms. Opposite the wolf, trailing from eyebrow to clavicle, a minuscule pattern of black and blue stars framed the silvered lines of his mark.

Rasping breaths grated over fraying nerves. Unable to trust his eyes, he clenched them shut, shaking his head. "Tell me I'm seeing things; it can't be her."

Silence.

"_Isabella Call is a single mother of six adopted children and two grandchildren, hailing from native tribes in Washington and Vancouver. A legend in downtown Seattle, she's a favorite bartender at the infamous Coyote Ugly, where she still works on occasion._

"_At twenty-six years old, Bella was named the youngest VP in Key Arena's history. Arena owner, Jeff White speaks proudly of her contributions and fresh ideas, calling her an integral part of both their corporate team __and__ their ground-breaking professional rollerderby league. Her trading card will be the first professional WFTDA card made available to the public at Key Arena. Meet and greet autograph-signing sessions will be he held throughout the Black & Blue bouts and events at Key Arena over the twelve-day tournament. Her children and grandchildren—_

The footage cut once more to a group of teenagers and toddlers clustered around Bella. A huge one, built like a wolf, covered from neck to wrists in tattoos, hugged her gently, the words 'so good, Mom' unheard, but easy to read on his lips.

"—_Drew, Thad, and Kit Lahote; Jessa, Chloe, Colton, Annie, and Joey Uley—wish their mother a great season and look forward to seeing her show Seattle her mettle and skill this week. For more information, visit Rat City Rollergirls DOT com . Back to you, Ron."_

"Dude…" Jared swallowed, clutching his phone. "I checked the website. It's really her."

Collin looked confused, murmuring, "But this is good, right…?"

"She's in fucking Seattle, but she hasn't called him," Paul hissed.

Jake murmured in wonder, "'Call of Booty' … _Call_ … She's using your name, man…"

"I know." The words were subhuman, guttural. Stumbling to the door, Embry growled, fighting for control, toeing off his boots and snarling final orders before the wolf exploded,"I'm going to find her. Nobody interferes."

In a burst of dark grey, he leapt into the woods.

Eight years' waiting, wondering if he would see her again, it all dissolved in the space of a heart beat.

His mate had returned and he intended to give her good reason to stay.

* * *

><p><strong>EN:** _**THE REST of this 1st place one-shot is available to read** on my profile here on FFn under the title, Black and Blue._


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